In the Ghost's Garden
by general zargon
Summary: Please read the warning at the beginning of this fic, this is not a drill! Repeat, not a drill! Rated MA for a reason! Hakuren receives a disturbing message, and Labrador is the one who offers comfort and perhaps a solution...


_Author's Note: My first attempt at a 07-Ghost fic, so please go easy on me!_

_**Warning: The story contains vague mention of some subjects that some readers might find disturbing. If this offends you, please press the back button immediately. You have been warned.**_

* * *

The halls of the Barsburg Church were silent, an odd occurrence to be sure considering the number of people who regularly came and went from the building, but that suited Hakuren just fine. His footsteps echoed through the empty hallway he was walking down, sounding more like strange claps of thunder than the sound of his shoes hitting the tiled floor. To be completely honest, the priest-in-training didn't even know where he was going; only that he had to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

His face was blank, completely expressionless as he mindlessly watched the ground by his feet and distantly listened as the echo of his steps resonated back through him. It sounded a bit like a heartbeat…or was he just hearing his own pounding heart? Hakuren couldn't tell anymore, the only thing he could feel was the letter burning in his pocket, the cause of his current desolate state.

A particularly clean tile served as a mirror as he passed, revealing his long hair for once loose around his face and more matted than it had been in a long time. His training robes were wrinkled and the sash was knotted instead of tied. The things that really told of his emotional state, however, were his pale skin and the bags under his eyes so dark that it looked as though someone had punched him. Those told of the stress and worry he was feeling even more than his less-than-pristine uniform.

Hakuren paid no attention to his reflection, merely kept walking down the hallways and side passages of the strangely empty church. In the very back of his mind, a small thought piped up enough for him to distantly wonder where everyone was, but then he turned down a corridor that had windows on one side and he had his answer.

It was nighttime, at least if the calm, silvery light shining through the windows was to be believed. It actually looked as if the hallway was glowing, and at any other time he would have thought the sight beautiful…at the moment though, all he wanted was to be alone. The sound of paper crinkling in his pocket sounded like nails on a chalkboard to his ears, driving home the point that he wouldn't be able to walk the church hallways for much longer.

A flash of color from the corner of his eye caused him to turn without thinking, and after a moment he realized that he was looking out a window into the garden. Barely a moment later Hakuren walked through the door to the garden, quietly shutting it behind him as he did so.

Beneath the moonlight, the many flowers and plants that inhabited the garden seemed…ethereal. Unearthly, perhaps, and almost hauntingly beautiful. The silver light of the moon shimmered off of each flower and leaf, giving the plants a faded, glimmering look, and making the few silver-colored roses there shine. The entire garden sparkled, to say nothing of the moonlight reflecting off of the water in the fountain.

Having been at the church for awhile, Hakuren knew where the stone benches were in the garden, and his feet obeyed the unformed thought, carrying him to one far enough away from the fountain that there was little chance he would run into Lazette, the Noel Mermaid who played the organ in the church. The benches in the garden were made of sturdy gray stone, so there was no need to be careful as he fairly collapsed on the bench, pulling his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

Soft shudders ran through his body, emotions that had been buried beneath stunned shock since that morning (had it really only been that morning since he received that damned letter, Hakuren wondered?) clawing their way to the surface. His throat felt dry and tight, like there was a huge lump lodged in his windpipe, making it feel almost impossible for him to pull air into his lungs. His shoulders were hunched as though there was a heavy burden on them, and tremors ran all through his body, causing his arms, legs, and torso to tremble faintly. His chest felt like there was a full-grown dragon sitting on it and his stomach felt like lead.

It was his heart, however, that hurt the most as he saw the accursed letter, word for word, in his mind's eye: the letter that brought what he had come to think of as his entire world crashing down around him. The words telling him that his father had had enough of his 'petty tantrum' and that it was time he came home and acted like a member of Oak family should, that it was time he joined the military like his grandfather, father, and brother had. The words had been cold, factual, and it was clear that the one who had penned the letter – his father, judging by the handwriting, so he supposed he should feel honored – was absolutely sure that they were in the right.

His father had also _graciously_, Hakuren mentally sneered the word, given him a day to say his goodbyes to his classmates at the church, not because of any kindness but because even his father knew that connections to the church could prove useful. Tomorrow, according to the orders in his pocket (and that was what they were, orders, so he would stop referring to it as a simple letter), his uncle Fujihio would arrive to escort him back to the Oak household immediately.

Fujihio, his skin crawled in disgust at the very thought of the man, memories flashing across his mind as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He remembered every time the man had sneered at him, calling his mother a harlot and him a stain on the family name. He recalled all the times that the man had struck him under the guise of 'training' and 'discipline'. And most of all, he remembered every instance when Fujihio had gotten him alone, every illicit touch and mocking caress.

And every time he had tried to tell someone, they had either not believed him or gotten hurt trying to help him, until finally he just stopped trying altogether. He had bided his time instead, waiting until he was old enough to join the church's training before running away so that the church would have no reason to send him back to his family, vowing that one day he would save his mother as well. The moment he had step foot in the church's main hall, that had been the moment when he had felt such a profound sense of relief and safety.

Right then, it had almost felt like he had entered Heaven.

The feeling had increased as he adapted to the church's different attitude towards things his own family had been vocal and disapproving towards, and when he had made friends with some other initiates for the first time…nothing could describe the feeling of light in his chest.

Now though, his father was going to take all of that away from him, and pull him back into the darkness of the Oak family.

That knowledge was all that it took for the floodgates holding back his emotions to burst, and he silently began to cry into his arms, biting his lip so hard it bled to stifle the urge to sob. It wouldn't do any good to cry, Hakuren knew, but he had to let his emotions out somehow, and crying seemed like the best way at the moment.

He didn't know how long he sat there, curled up on the stone bench crying and hearing only his own muffled sobs and pounding heartbeat, but somehow, the sound of approaching footsteps managed to penetrate his fog of misery. He lifted his head, forgetting for a moment his appearance and he soon found who the other late-night visitor to the garden was as a white-robed figure rounded a corner and caught sight of his curled up position.

"Hakuren, is something wrong?…" The concerned voice of Bishop Labrador trailed off as the lavender-haired man took in the younger man's appearance, from the trail of blood from his torn lip to the redness in his eyes that said that he had been crying, and wordlessly the Bishop sat down next to him. Hakuren didn't know what to do or how to explain his father's orders, but looking into the Bishop's eyes, so gentle and comforting, broke down the last shred of resistance he had and his eyes once more filled with tears.

Without saying a word, Bishop Labrador opened his arms in invitation, and Hakuren didn't even think before moving. He threw his arms around the bishop in a tight hug, burying his face in the crook between the lavender-haired man's neck and shoulder as he cried, this time not bothering to try and contain his sobs.

Bishop Labrador just held him gently as he cried, letting out how his sorrow, shame, anger, and hopelessness, still not saying a word.

In between his deep sobs and shuddering breaths, Hakuren managed to chokingly tell the bishop about the orders he'd gotten from his father, about Fujihio and what the man had done, about the people Fujihio had hurt when they had only tried to help him, why he didn't want to go back to his family's home. Everything just came pouring out; he couldn't have stopped the deluge of words even if the thought had crossed his mind. By the end of it, he was tripping over his words and crying even harder into Bishop Labrador's already tear-soaked robe, but suddenly it felt like he could breathe again, like a gigantic weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

Thoroughly exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster he had been on the entire day and most of the night, plus the stress of the orders he had been carrying around, his eyelids began to gently close as he rested his head more comfortably on Bishop Labrador's shoulder. He tried to stay awake, but when the bishop rested a hand gently on the back of his head, it was a lost cause.

The last thing he heard before he drifted off was Bishop Labrador saying gently, "Go to sleep now. It will all be alright when you wake up…" before the silence of slumber claimed him.

* * *

Labrador waited for almost half an hour in order to make sure that the exhausted priest-in-training was deeply asleep before he easily lifted Hakuren into his arms and set off towards the room that the young man shared with Teito Klein.

Mulling over everything that young Hakuren had told him, he had to admit to himself that he hadn't seen anything like that coming when the flowers had told him that there was someone with a deeply sad aura in the garden. He had gone to see who it was before heading to bed himself (he actually used the bed in his room, unlike Frau), but when he had seen the despair hovering around Hakuren he hadn't been able to resist offering comfort.

He could honestly say he was glad that he'd done so, as it gave him the opportunity to stop a monster in a man's skin from breaking the spirit of someone with the potential to be a great bishop one day. First though, he had to get Hakuren into his own bed before someone noticed he was missing, if they haven't already. Teito Klein, Labrador thought fondly, had proven to be very, _very _protective of his friends, and Frau would have his hands full with the young man, mark his words.

The bishop made good time to Hakuren and Teito's room, though it took some maneuvering before he was able to slip in without running the risk of waking the teenager in his arms. Locating Hakuren's bed was easy, as it was the only one that looked as though it hadn't been slept in, as opposed to the other bed in the room which sported covers thrown almost to the foot of the bed and tousled sheets.

Once he had removed the tormenting letter from Hakuren's pocket, he settled the deeply sleeping boy beneath the covers of his bed, taking in how the lines of exhaustion on his face seemed to be melting away the longer he slept.

Labrador smiled in relief, glad that he had been able to help the young man, even if only to get a good night's rest. He gently ran a hand through the teenager's long matted hair, wincing as he considered how hard it was going to be for the boy to get those tangles out, then shook his head. Get your mind back on track, Labrador thought to himself in amusement as he withdrew his hand and straightened up. He had considered changing Hakuren into his nightclothes, but decided against it; the teenager was liable to be embarrassed enough come morning without him adding to it.

The lavender-haired man turned and quietly slipped out of the room, shutting the door gently behind him. Teito Klein was bound to be confused when he came back from searching for Hakuren only to find said priest-in-training asleep in his bed, he thought as he walked down the corridor and chuckled under his breath. He would have liked to hidden and seen the look on the brunet's face, but alas, he had work to do.

Oh yes, he had a great deal to do before Fujihio Oak arrived in the morning to _supposedly _escort Hakuren back to the Oak household.

At that thought, his dark eyes sharpened and his expression changed into something terrifying.

* * *

Fujihio Oak, member of the illustrious Oak family, discreetly curled his lip as he looked around the chapel he had been instructed to wait in while some bishop or another was informed of his visit. It had been a full hour since then, and he had grown tired of standing almost twenty minutes in, and so he had sat down on one of the pews. He irritably straightened his military medals, looking around the chapel and scowling up at the skeletal statue that stood silently in the center of the room.

He grumbled to himself, since he had only come to the Barsburg Church to retrieve his wayward nephew, not to be kept waiting for over an hour by some uppity bishop who thought he was more important than he was. The sun was shining through the myriad of stained glass windows around the shrine, and while that might be beautiful to some people, Fujihio couldn't care less about some colored glass.

Although, he grudgingly thought, at least the place was clean and he didn't have to sit listening to peasants praying. It was only right that if he had to wait that he got the place to himself for the duration; he mentally gloated. Of course, he had to wonder how long it could possibly take for the bishop he was waiting for to get from one part of the church to the chapel. What could the man possibly be doing, anyway? He thought irritably, scowling once again around at the empty pews, towering windows, and silently imposing statue.

Fujihio tapped the fingers of one hand impatiently on his thigh, sighing in a much put-upon tone, and he would definitely be relieved when he finally collected his nephew and they departed from this retched place.

Thinking of his nephew, a leering smirk crossed his face at the thought of the boy. It may have been several years since he had seen young Hakuren, but he remembered how much 'fun' they had had before the boy had run away to the church. He wondered if he would be able to persuade the boy to have some more 'fun' with him on the way back to the Oak estate.

Chuckling at the thought, he was in a much better humor as his attention returned to his surroundings, scarcely noticing that, despite it being the height of daytime, the empty chapel was noticeably darker than it had been several minutes ago. What the older man _did _notice was the abrupt change in temperature that caused him to shiver and the sudden ominous weight in the air that pressed down onto his hunches, causing him to hunch into himself as he looked around cautiously.

A gust of wind that sounded like the final breath of air from a closing crypt door blew through the chapel, and Fujihio felt a single drop of sweat roll from his temple down the side of his face as his eyes darted around. He didn't know why, but for some reason he felt sharp tendrils of fear snaking up and down his spine, and he glanced over at the entrance to the chapel in hopes that the damned bishop would get there already!

This time, Fujihio certainly noticed when the room got darker, and the tendrils of fear rooted in his gut suddenly grew thorns to tear at his insides, well on their way to transforming to terror. Wasn't the chapel supposed to be a sanctuary of some such nonsense? He was rather sure that feeling scared for no reason wasn't in the definition of the word 'sanctuary'…He shivered, wondering when it had gotten so cold as he glanced back at the statue and then did a double-take.

It was odd, but he was _sure _that the statue had been looking away from him the first time he had seen it…

'_Fujihio Oak…_' a voice hissed behind him, causing him to shoot to his feet in surprise, whirling around to find whoever had called his name, and the breath froze in lungs as he saw exactly what was standing behind him.

A skeleton glad in a dark robe, grinning a death's head smile beneath the shadow of the robe's hood and gripping a scythe in its' bony fingers stood in the aisle between pews. Darkness seemed to emanate from the ghost's robe, casting flickering shadows across the walls behind it as the skeleton seemed to glide forward.

'_One of the 7 Ghosts…_' the thought echoed through Fujihio's head as his heart seized, because even a man such as he had heard that tale, and he struggled to draw breath into his lungs as he stumbled backwards and collided with the base of the statue, which had definitely moved. The statue now appeared to be looking directly down at Fujihio as the older man shook in pure terror as the darkly-grinning skeleton approached, appearing to grow in size the closer to him that it got.

As he looked into the empty sockets that passed for the Ghost's eyes, powerless to do anything else, Fujihio felt himself falling into the fathomless depths. Paralyzed by terror, he couldn't move or call out as he was surrounded by darkness, coldness creeping into his bones and driving away all hint of warmth. The older man, despite all of his combat experience and training, could only open and close his mouth wordlessly in horror as the Ghost loomed over him, scarier even than the darkness surrounding them.

But then the visions started, and Fujihio was finally able to scream.

…And he kept on screaming through the darkness for what felt like an eternity…

* * *

Hakuren yawned as he struggled to keep his eyes open, blinking fervently as he straightened out of his slumped posture and snapped back to attention when Teito subtly elbowed him in the side.

The priest-in-training's eyelids were heavy, he didn't think he'd slept for long before he had been startled awake to find himself in his and Teito's room by his friend shaking him. Apparently the brunet had been looking for him almost the entire night, and when he'd come back to find the blond sleeping in his own bed he hadn't been able to resist waking him up to make sure that Hakuren was alright. They had both gone to asleep after Hakuren had assured Teito that he was alright, but even though he had slept late and missed morning Mass (he had glared at Teito, who had looked completely unrepentant) he still hadn't gotten enough sleep to make up for all the stress he had been under.

Now he was sitting on a pew next to Teito and Mikage the dragon while struggling to stay awake through the afternoon sermon. He wasn't having much success on that score though, so he had to rely on Teito to nudge him whenever it looked like he was about to fall asleep.

Honestly though, he was relieved that he had been allowed to sleep late, since his uncle Fujihio apparently hadn't shown up that morning. He'd had no words to describe his relief when he had asked a passing initiate about anyone looking for him and learned that there hadn't been anyone, though he was puzzled about the fact that the orders his father had sent him had apparently vanished right from his pocket. He couldn't remember taking the paper out and putting it somewhere or anything along those lines, but then he couldn't remember a whole lot about the previous day and night except for talking to Bishop Labrador and then falling asleep.

All things considered, he decided, it was probably for the best, since he didn't think he could be anymore embarrassed about his crying fit than he already was.

Hakuren didn't know why Fujihio hadn't shown up, but he didn't dwell on it except to be glad that he hadn't. He had seen Bishop Labrador earlier, but the lavender-haired man had only smiled at him and acted as if everything was normal, so Hakuren had done the same. He might have been worried that his father would send someone else to bring him back since Fujihio hadn't shown up, but for some reason he believed that everything would turn out alright. Faintly, he heard the echo of someone telling him that it would all be alright coming from the back of his mind, and he chose to believe that voice.

You just had to have faith, he thought with a small smile, and somehow it was easier for him to stay awake after that thought.

…Of course, he still had to ask Teito to cover for him while he snuck off to their room to catch a quick nap before their training session, but hey, you couldn't have everything. Hakuren liked to think that he'd gotten pretty dang close though.

**Omake**

Later that night, Frau watched Labrador through narrowed blue eyes as the other bishop moved about the church's main hall, curious about the fact that the lavender-haired man had been keeping his left hand out of sight the entire day. That was strange, even for Labrador, although if the blond really thought about it, it had been a strange day all around.

For starters, Frau thought reflectively, it wasn't every day that a clearly unstable man in a military uniform was found gibbering unintelligibly on the floor of the main chapel. It had been a pretty sorry sight, between the rocking back and forth and the crying (complete with mucus coming from his nose), but the lesser priests who had found him had called the nearest rehabilitation center and the older man had been taken away.

You had to wonder what the heck had happened to the poor guy though, since according to the priest who had come to tell him and Castor about it, the guy had been babbling about visions and a ghost – when he had been coherent at least. That, coupled with the fact that visions were the territory of one specific Ghost, added up to something strange going on, and judging by the thoughtful gleam in Castor's eyes, the russet haired man was thinking along the same lines.

After around twenty minutes of simply watching Labrador go about his business, all while keeping his left hand hidden, Frau's curiosity got the better of him, and he silently followed after the other bishop when the lavender-haired man slipped through a small side door.

"Soooo, what's up with your hand?" The blond drawled in question as he matched his footsteps to his colleague's – not even bothering at stealth considering Labrador had probably known he would follow him before _he _had.

Dark eyes flicked over to look at the tall blond, and Labrador's lips curled into a small smile as he replied, "Oh nothing you need to worry about, I just had a little accident this morning, that's all."

An accident, yeah right, Frau mentally snorted and shot a disbelieving look at the shorter bishop, expression clearly telling the other man to pull the other leg, it had bells on it. They walked down the hall in silence, the tall blond trying to get a peek of the lavender-haired man's left hand the entire time, but Labrador neatly sidestepped his attempts.

The blond bishop suspected that his friend was trying not to laugh at him, judging by the way the shorter man's lips were twitching each time he dodged one of his attempts to get a look at the hidden hand, and that just made him try even harder.

Coming to a stop at the door at the end of the side passage, Labrador glanced up at Frau and sighed, sounding amused as he asked, "Do you remember when the last time I transformed was?" meaning turning into his true appearance as one of the 7 Ghosts, and Frau actually had to think about it. Running the question over in his mind, the blond had to admit defeat and wordlessly shake his head, because he honestly couldn't remember the last time he had seen Labrador transform.

The lavender-haired man was one of the calmest and most peaceful people Frau knew, and thus the least likely to need the extra power that a transformation would give him. Not to mention that Labrador's powers leaned more towards healing and prophecy than fighting, which was one of the greatest areas they differed in, and Labrador had never encountered a wound serious enough that he would need to transform in order to heal it.

With his only other special power (aside from the standard ones that all Ghosts shared) being visions, there wasn't a lot of need for him to have to turn into a large skeleton wielding a scythe…except when he wished to scare someone, that is.

Labrador nodded, obviously guessing the direction Frau's thoughts had gone, and said, "Exactly, even _Castor _changes form more often than I do…and I suppose that I am out of practice in one part of it." The last part was said sheepishly as he withdrew his left hand from where he had been concealing it. The shorter bishop held up his hand, flexing it before darting dark eyes over to look at the blond man as he nervously scratched the back of his head with his right hand, blushing faintly as he said. "You see, apparently I'm out of practice in how to change back immediately, so I've been trying to fix this ever since…"

Frau just blinked in silence as he looked at the skeletal hand in place of Labrador's left hand, and a large sweatdrop formed on the back of his head while the other bishop nervously laughed.

**Author's Note: *Points above* and that, my dear readers, was my first attempt at an omake…How'd I do? :P Please review and tell me what you think! As always, constructive criticism is welcome!**


End file.
